


⌿sister

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Offscreen Minor Character Death, Faked Suicide, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Spoilers through pre-1x20, referenced past suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: What if Eve's demise happened a little bit...differently? Replacement for some aspects of 1x19 with speculation into 1x20.
Relationships: Eve Blanchard/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	⌿sister

Malcolm turned his phone over and over in his hand. A whiskey sat on the top of his desk, refilling each time it hit bottom.

Eve was gone.

She used him for the information she wanted and disappeared. Cherrypicked knowledge with her muffins, squirreling away just enough before bolting, leaving him with the crumbs. Cold as breakup over voicemail was, he couldn't get her out of his head.

_I wanted to say I’m sorry._

Then why didn’t she stay? Were the nightmares too much? Was he too unstable? His hand shook as he took another drink.

_I have to do this on my own._

No, she didn’t. He’d do _anything_. Took her to see his father, something he wanted to avoid for the plague he was, just because it was what she needed.

_You deserve to be happy._

He never would be. It wasn’t something any significant other had the power to change. He’d never been able to change it either despite Gabrielle’s attempts to convince him otherwise.

He was destined to be —

Alone.

Miserable.

It was what he deserved.

Wasn’t it?

Penance for being the son of a serial killer.

He downed the last of his drink and stumbled his way to bed, not bothering to change or brush his teeth.

* * *

Malcolm was in the middle of tying his tie when the intercom buzzed. “Hey, can you let me up?” Gil’s voice came through, and Malcolm cracked the door for him.

“What’s up?” Malcolm’s brow furrowed, his hands still working at the knot.

Gil had the remains of a hundred sleepless nights under his eyes. “Eve’s dead,” Gil informed without cushioning.

Malcolm pulled the tie tight against his throat, only letting up when Gil grasped his wrist.

“Kid — “

“H-how?” Malcolm stepped backward, putting himself at the end of the bar near the living room.

“Bright — “

His hand shook in front of him, not finding anything to steady him. “I need to — “

“She was found with a self-inflicted stab wound in the Hudson,” Gil continued, creeping toward him.

Stabbed? “No — ”

“With a sword. Perhaps a — “

Katana.

Malcolm clutched the counter, his knees going weak. His fingers brushed against a solid handle.

Or a chef’s knife.

He dropped to the floor, cowering against the back of the couch. Where Eve had sat, where he’d almost killed her, where —

Eve was dead. Dead. So, so, _so_ dead.

He lurched sideways, flattening to the hardwood in a trembling heap.

She was gone.

And he couldn’t do this.

* * *

Gil propped Malcolm up on the floor just enough to get him to sitting again, his arm resting around Malcolm’s back and rubbing soothing circles into his side.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Malcolm’s voice was broken, watery.

“She had — “

“Don’t _tell_ me past history is predictive of future behavior,” Malcolm shouted and pulled away. “ _I’m_ still here.”

“You are, kid.” Gil brought Malcolm back into his side. “I’m so grateful.”

Malcolm tipped into Gil’s chest, his tears disappearing into the knit of Gil’s sweater. “She didn’t do that,” his voice was muffled, threatening to disappear.

“We’ll wait for Edrisa’s final determination.”

He wouldn’t do it either.

Not again.

He’d promised Gil.

* * *

The red line was a vivid divide for Malcolm between safety and the void of his father. Eve had crossed it, her blood leaving the line darker, giving it even more pigment toward crimson. It reached for him, trying to get him to cross too.

Someone had seen them. On Claremont’s rickety cameras few had access to. Few like Endicott, the monster who hid behind a pharmaceutical company claiming to do good. The man probably had footage of him stabbing Dr. Whitly too.

Malcolm turned over in bed, his restraints jingling. His chest tightened at the empty space next to him, Eve’s warmth not with him while she waited for him to fall asleep. A warm that would never be there again.

Because of him.

Because of her quest for her sister.

Because of him.

He turned back over to face the expanse toward his kitchen and living room. Empty. Alone.

* * *

Malcolm woke on his back, the girl in the box piercing him through his chest. He wrenched his hands out of his restraints, hustling to the bathroom to be sick.

He held off dressing, choosing instead to sit at his desk and think before he had to prepare to meet Gil at the precinct. He looked back toward the bed — Eve. To the kitchen — Eve. To the couch — Eve.

He couldn't do this.

He'd promised Gil.

His front door smashed in, his hands shaking in a panic. Everyone kept talking, _talking_ — there were so many words, but he couldn’t believe them.

Arrested.

_Arrested._

Murder.

Not him.

He would _never_ do that.

What was happening?

“ _Gil_ ,” he pleaded.

Gil didn’t do anything.

They just led him away.

Like his father.

* * *

Dani and JT took him out of his apartment, “For your safety,” JT explained while Malcolm rode cuffed in the backseat.

“You’re being watched,” Dani added. “I’m sorry about the show. We needed to make it believable.”

Malcolm looked out the window, his tears blurring his ability to watch the buildings on the way to the precinct.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain — “ Dani’s voice attempted to comfort.

“ _Stop!_ “ Malcolm cut her off with the terse command, his chin trembling.

Eve.

He needed her.

And he’d just been arrested for her murder.

* * *

Gil sequestered the two of them in the conference room under the guise of interrogation. Malcolm knew he’d told everyone to stay away, not a single eye in sight as they’d led him through the bullpen, all the officers concentrating on their computers. All the blinds were closed, limiting the space to only them.

“Edrisa found your DNA under Eve’s fingernails,” Gil explained.

“We had sex.” Malcolm gritted his teeth.

“And your fingerprints on the weapon.”

“I’ve been in her _apartment_.” Malcolm’s handcuffed hands shot across the table toward Gil in frustration.

“Any idea who would want to frame you?”

Malcolm pulled his hands back toward his middle. “I didn’t need this,” Malcolm protested, hitting the table.

“Kid — “

“This isn’t _okay!_ “ Malcolm popped the table again and pushed back his chair, hitting the window. He dipped his head, taking several moments to breathe and attempt to find his footing.

“The fram— “ Gil tried to start again, but Malcolm interrupted him.

“They had to get close. Watch us.” Malcolm told his lap.

“There’s cameras in her ceiling, yours, at Claremont. Would your father — “

“It’s not him.” Malcolm shook his head. “Not this time.”

“Then?”

“Endicott.”

Gil returned a rapid head shake. “He wouldn’t get his hands dirty.”

“He turned Sophie.” Malcolm went for the most likely suspect.

“To kill her sister?” Gil was skeptical, his fingers rubbing the top of the conference table.

“She didn’t want to be found.”

“That’s — “

“Brutal.” Malcolm tried to reach up to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, but it was awkward with the handcuffs. He caught it with his shirt sleeve at his shoulder instead.

“Kid — “

“They had a painful past. Eve got a second chance. Sophie…didn’t.”

Gil’s expression revealed he still wasn’t buying in. “Her sister?” he repeated as if saying it aloud again would somehow change Malcolm’s opinion.

“You can’t say no to Endicott. Maybe the girl in the box stabbing in my dreams was Sophie turning the blade on me. Maybe she did the same to Eve.”

Gil quietly considered the prospect. Malcolm knew Gil had been reluctant to trust his nightmares in the past. Not that Malcolm could trust them most of the time himself.

“Dr. Whitly will know where to find her.” Malcolm met Gil’s eyes, aiming to convince him of his next plan. “Hopefully they haven’t managed to put cameras in gen pop yet.”

Gil looked back at him, his hands idly digging into his hips.

“Let me go see him. In lockup, as a visitor — whatever it takes to find the killer.”

“You might not find them.”

“She deserves it.” Malcolm pressed his lips together, forcing away any further discussion on the topic.

“One day. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to come up with a different way to go about this.”

Malcolm lowered his head in agreement, vowing to himself he’d do anything, _everything_ for her. To bring her justice.

Too bad she wasn’t alive to see it.

Gil uncuffed him.

Malcolm played himself Eve's voicemail again as Gil led him out of the precinct.

_I'm sorry._

* * *

_fin_


End file.
